He couldn’t keep the self-loathing out of his voice. “There was one brute of a man. He chose the youngest girl. She was so scared, and he liked to hurt her. He liked to scare her. He didn’t want me to train her. He didn’t like me going near her. He wanted to do all of her training himself. It was an ego thing. I hated that she was so frightened all the time and one day, when I didn’t think he was watching and she was sobbing, I whispered to her, pushing obedience into her mind. He went ballistic. He raged at me. I could have taken the beating. Gladly would have taken it. I was used to it. I was used to rape. It had been going on practically since I was a toddler.”
Memories were close. Too close. He rolled the bottle over his pounding temple, first one side and then the other, trying to find a way to breathe. “Those girls, they just wouldn’t leave it. When the other men wanted to join in—and it often happened that way, I could take that too—the girls lost their minds. They attacked. Brutus, that’s what we all called him, had a huge ego and temper to match it. He was so furious. He beat them back, beat me, kicked them. They were like little rag dolls. I tried to protect them, but he was huge and the other masters overpowered me and dragged me out of the training hall we had.”
His breath was coming too fast and he was close to hyperventilating. Getting dizzy. He forced himself to slow down, drink another swallow of water. Get back in control. Own up to his fuckin’ sins. He was laying out his blackened soul to his wife. Condemning Savage as a monster, a serial killer, was naming the wrong man. She’d tied herself to the real one.
“They all knew Brutus and they probably realized before I did what he was capable of and what he planned to do. I couldn’t conceive of that kind of evil, even after all I’d seen. He stomped those girls, those beautiful little innocent girls, and then doused them with an accelerant. He lit the hall on fire and barricaded the doors, leaving them inside to burn alive. I tried to get them out. I fucking tried with everything I had. I couldn’t stop him using my voice because the other men had their hands over my mouth. They didn’t want him killing me. Then when I ran back to try to get them out of the burning building, Savage and Steele stopped me.”
He took another swallow of water. “I fought them off. Demyan came. I fought them all. The building collapsed and they were all dead. All of them including my little kitten. I hadn’t saved any of them. I hadn’t protected a single one of them. They were all dead. I wanted to die too. I made up my mind to die. I went back down to our dungeon, that sickening place where so many others had died, and I refused to speak or eat. I didn’t care who threatened me, raped me or beat me. I didn’t respond when they threatened anyone else. I was going to die. They’d finally broken me. I welcomed death. Nothing Czar said, or Demyan, or Savage or Steele mattered. Demyan’s voice didn’t work on me. I just waited to die. They couldn’t force me to eat.”
He fell silent, raising his gaze to Scarlet’s. Her green eyes were that brilliant emerald. Tears swam in her eyes. He knew they were in his.
“Alena has a gift with food. She can make you taste anything. She can do this thing where she transfers food into you somehow when it’s really nothing. I hated her. I fought her for so long. She wouldn’t stop and Demyan sat with me in his lap just whispering to open my mouth, that I wanted what she was giving me. That it was the best there was and I craved it. To this day, that dish is always my favorite. Savage and Steele stayed close to make certain I didn’t harm myself. One of them always guarded me. When they couldn’t, it was Reaper and Czar, but it was always Savage, Steele, Demyan and Alena I blamed for keeping me alive.”
Scarlet pressed her lips together tightly as if to keep from speaking. “You hunted Brutus down and killed him, didn’t you?” she finally asked softly.
He nodded slowly. “All of them. Each of the masters. It took me years to find them. We didn’t get out of there for a long time. We were in our twenties, still running missions for Sorbacov. I looked for them every time I was on the outside. Savage sometimes got one. Or Steele or Alena. Sometimes Reaper or Czar. I knew by the way they were killed which one of us it was. In the end, all of the masters were dead. Brutus went first and he was the one I took satisfaction in killing slow. The rest I just wanted dead. Savage never kills any of the pedophiles slow or easy and, honestly, I don’t mind that in the least.”